


From Memory, By Heart

by terezis



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Food Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I guess???, Post-Canon, lup also has a trauma, taako has a trauma, taako just talk to your sister. please. you're stressing her out.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 05:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12125139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terezis/pseuds/terezis
Summary: “Hey," you say. “What was your cooking show like?”





	From Memory, By Heart

It’s late when you finally come in. Barry all but collapses on the couch. He’s snoring within minutes. You’re tired, too – since getting your body back, Kravitz has been working you to the bone – but you can hear Taako puttering around in the kitchen, so you amble on over to investigate the noise. 

“Hey,” you say. You drape yourself over the island in the middle of the room. Taako’s back is to you, and he doesn’t look up from where he’s creaming butter and sugar together – making cookies – but his ears twitch, so you know he’s listening. For a few minutes, you're content to watch him work, too exhausted to join in yourself, but seeing Taako in his element like this reminds you; you've been meaning to ask. “What was your cooking show like?”

Objectively, this is an innocuous question. Like, Taako's been a little cagey about his decade without you, sure; you've chalked it up to the lingering weirdness that comes with your whole... situation. Your _situations_ , plural, as if finally defeating the Hunger isn't a trip on its own. You, finally freed from your umbrella: learning how to be a person again, remembering to eat and drink and the necessity of rest; Taako, suddenly regaining centuries of missing memories. Memories of you! Memories of you vanishing without a trace.

But like, it’s _Taako_. You’ve always been Lup-and-Taako, a pair, a dynamic duo, a _team_ , even when he couldn’t remember that fact. Right? You figure the adjustment period for the two of you has got to be shorter than it is for anyone else. Plus, you’ve missed him. Miss him, present tense. It’s strange, that there are parts of his life you don’t know about. You don’t like it. So you ask.

Taako flinches like you've slapped him. His ears dip low and pin back flat against his head. It’s hard to see from this angle, but his grip on the wooden spoon in his hand seems white-knuckled. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing. You frown. He's suddenly coiled with a tension you don't understand, pulled taut like a bowstring, readied for attack.

But then you blink, and the moment is over just as quickly as it came. Taako relaxes. His ears flick back up, twitching, and he starts pounding away at the butter like nothing's wrong. He turns to start sifting flour through a sieve.

"Gonna have to be a little more specific, Lu," he says breezily. "What do you want to know?"

You frown.  He has to know you can see right through him. Like, you'll admit that he's a decent actor, you guys pulled off all kinds of grifts when you were younger thanks to a combination of good improv and even better looks, but you know all Taako’s tells. Like you wouldn’t notice the slump to his shoulders, the frantic tap-tap-tap of his foot against the linoleum? _Please_. You know Taako better than anyone knows anybody.

Or, well. You used to.

You only know about _Sizzle It Up!_ at all because Magnus mentioned it in passing the other day. Even then, you didn’t understand the wide-eyed glare Taako shot him, or his panicked glance towards you. Why wouldn’t he want you to know about that? You’ve caught him in the kitchen late at night, when everyone else is asleep, deep in concentration. And when you come back in the morning you find fully-cooked meals in the trash. The Taako you grew up with never wasted food, not ever.

You don’t hate Lucretia; you were never directly affected by what she did. By the time she got around to erasing everyone’s memories, you were good as dead. But gods, sometimes you just want to take her by the shoulders and shake her. _What did you do_ , you want to ask. _Just how much did you take from him. Who is this slightly off-brand Taako that you’ve gone and replaced my brother with._

You get mad at yourself when you think that, though. It’s not fair: to Lucretia, who was just doing what she thought necessary; to Taako, who’s changed, sure, but who is still fundamentally himself. And it’s not as though you haven’t changed, either. A decade in an umbrella will do that.

You swallow, and work to keep your tone casual in response. You could drag answers out of him if you tried, but it’d be like pulling teeth.

“I don’t know,” you grin, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Like, what kind of shit did you cook? Did you have merch? Did it sell?” You waggle your eyebrows, though he doesn’t see it. “Did you have fans?”

Taako cracks a couple of eggs into his bowl and conjures up a sparkling pink Mage Hand to beat them in. You watch with furrowed brows as he carefully measures out a teaspoon of vanilla from a small vial. “Delicious shit,” he says, “yes, hell yes, and of fucking _course_ I had fans, who do you think I am?”

“Uh, Taako – you know, like from _TV_?” you say, and he laughs. It’s kind of ridiculous how relieved you are to hear it. At least you can still do that. Still got one thing going for you. Point, Lup. “Since when do you stock vanilla?” you ask.

Taako pauses halfway through the motion of pouring it into the mix; he doesn’t move his hand away even after Mage Hand starts folding it into the dough.

“What?” he says, turning to face you. His expression throws you for a loop – s'not like you’re accusing him of stealing somebody’s precious heirlooms, why is he looking at you like that?

“I mean, don’t you usually transmute it? Vanilla’s expensive here, isn’t it?” You raise a brow and smirk at him. “Or did your gig with Lucretia pay that well?”

Taako glances down at the teaspoon, swallowing hard. His mouth twists but he doesn't speak, and you hate it. There it is again: the real issue, the heart of the matter you've been dancing around for months now. Sometimes Taako looks at you like he's seeing a ghost. He won't even look at you now. You open your mouth to say something. You're not sure what. You just want to cut the crap, clear the air already, you wish he'd _talk to you_ \- but then Taako turns abruptly on his heel and waves a hand dismissively. Mage Hand vanishes.

What the fuck.

“Oh, you know,” he says with a shrug. He sprinkles a handful of chocolate chips into the dough and starts mixing. “Teachin' Agnes later, gotta save those spell slots. Boychik’s a little slow on the uptake.”

“I _don’t_ know, actually,” you say, frowning. “Care to clue me in? S’not like he’s learning Shapechange, Koko. Last time I checked, you had spell slots for days.” When he doesn’t answer immediately – just stares down at the bowl in front of him – you hop off the counter. “Taako.”

He ignores you again, this time in favor of scooping blobs of cookie dough onto a sheet by the stove. You follow him, growing increasingly agitated, and eventually he rolls his eyes and says, “Not everybody's made of pure arcane power, Lulu. Just ‘cause I’m kicking it normie-style doesn’t mean you should rub it in that you –“

“Taako!” 

You slap your palm down flat on the countertop next to him. He starts, and you frown unhappily, brows creasing. He scowls. You realize you’re kind of crowding him a little – he must be annoyed, he used to hate when you did that before – but you don’t move. You’re pretty peeved yourself.

“Lup, I’m fine,” Taako says flatly. His face pinches in a way that makes it clear to you that he is very much _not_ fine. “Drop it.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. Taako glances at you out of the corner of his eyes; you narrow yours.

“Look,” you say, jaw clenching and unclenching. “If you don’t want to – if you’re mad at me, if you don’t want to talk to me. About what I missed.” You pause and then sigh, deflating. “I – I get it, okay? I should’ve been there. Lucy would’ve sent us away together if I’d been there.” The corners of your eyes start to sting, so you look up at the ceiling, blinking, and then you squeeze them shut. You say, “Fuck. Taako, I didn’t mean to –“

Taako whips around to face you, eyes wide. “Holy shit, what? Lup, I’m not – I’m not mad at you –“

You laugh. It’s kind of watery. “Kind of seems like it, dude!”

Taako's hands flutter around you without touching, like he doesn't know what to do with them, how to comfort you. You think of the last time he saw you break down; the last time he saw you for years and years. Things are so different now.

Taako chews on his lip, hesitating for just a moment before he nudges you away from the stove. He slips the sheet of cookies into the oven, sets the timer, and turns to you. You let him tug you down onto the floor, sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him against the cabinets. You wipe at your eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Taako says quietly. He stares down at his hands, clenched into fists in his lap. “’M not mad at you.”

“Why not?” you ask. “You should be.” You pluck at the hair-ties on your wrist, twist them around your index finger. “Like, I don’t regret going, that was the right thing to do, you know?” He nods minutely. “But I should have taken you with me. Like, we're better as a team.” You nudge his shoulder with your own. “You would’ve known something was up with Cyrus right away. You were always good at reading people.”

Taako swallows, hard. After a moment, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he mumbles.

“You couldn’t even remember me, dingus."

“Still."

“I missed you too,” you tell him. He takes your hand and squeezes it. “So what’s the deal then?” you ask. “Like, you had a show. You were famous!”

“We’re _all_ famous,” Taako hedges, and you feel more than see him roll his eyes; his whole head lolls with the motion.

“Well, yeah, _now,_ but you were famous first. Twenty years ago we’d have a hard time getting you to shut up about Taako, celebrity chef extraordinaire. Why’d I have to hear about it from Mags?”

Taako crosses his arms, fidgeting. “I’unno,” he says. “S’not a big deal.”

“Sorry, what?” you joke. “Who are you, and what’ve you done with my brother?”

Taako grimaces, and your heart sinks a little, but before you can say anything more, the oven beeps and he hops to his feet. Your mouth waters as he pulls the sheet out of the oven and the scent of melted chocolate wafts over you both. Gods but you missed Taako’s double chip. You can’t help yourself; you Mage Hand a gooey one right off the tray before he can even place it on the counter to cool.

Taako whirls around, and you expect him to scold you (it wouldn’t be the first time you burned your mouth on scalding baked goods, and it probably won't be the last), but his face is ashen. He slaps the cookie in your hand to the floor. After a moment's consideration, he dumps the rest into the trash. He drops the now-empty tray into the sink with a clatter while you look on like an idiot – eyes wide, mouth open, bits of cookie crumbled in your lap.

It takes a moment for you to find your voice; you stand, and crumbs fall to the floor.

“What the hell, Taako.”

“They were burnt,” he says flatly.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You want to reach out to him, but. This Taako, you don’t know. This is Taako poised for flight, preparing for battle. You don’t want him to run away, and you certainly don’t want to fight him.

Still. “I literally _just_ watched you pull them out of the oven, dude. They were fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Taako snaps. You move to face him as his voice rises and his breathing gets harder. “You don’t know that! Fuck, how would you know, anyways!”

“Taako –“

“You don’t know what I was like when you were gone, Lup,” he says. “It _sucked_ without you. I sucked.”

“What? I mean, yeah, dude, I’m a treat, but c’mon.”

Taako wraps his arms around himself. His already sour expression twists into a sneer, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else; he just closes his eyes, looking sick. You stay where you are, close but not touching. You wait.

“I thought it’d be better now,” he says finally. “Easier, at least. Like, shit, I made a taco that helped save the _world_. But I still can’t – nobody should – fuck. _Fuck,_ Lup. I killed those people.”

Your heart is in your throat. “Who?” you ask.

And Taako tells you about Glamour Springs.

He's shaking by the end of it. He looks exhausted; he looks like he's been exhausted for a very long time. You? You're angry. Gods, you're angry, of course you are. You want to extinguish this Sazed. It makes you sick to think that he's still out there, walking free, this man who killed forty people. Who tried to kill your brother. And he came so close to killing him. Your brother, who now thinks he's a monster.

You realize that you’re trembling, too. You pull Taako down to sit with you again.

“Taako,” you say slowly. “You didn’t poison that food.”

“May as well have,” he says. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but I loaded the fuckin’ gun.”

“Bullshit. He got pissed and jumped straight to murder. That’s not on you.”

"I fed 'em their deaths, and then I ran. Didn't even try to help. I fuckin' booked it."

You shake your head. You're quiet for a long moment, and you know what Taako's probably hearing in that silence - that he's right, that he should have stayed - but. _No_ , you think, _that's wrong._ He's not the guilty party here. None of that is true. "They would have hung you," you say, and the realization knocks the breath out of you. "They would have killed you, if you'd stuck around. I'm glad you ran."

“If I was less selfish –“

“You were just – just looking out for yourself. That’s not… it’s not _selfish_ , fuck. That doesn’t make you a bad person. You didn’t have anybody to look out for you. You were on your own. It’s – that’s not your fault _.”_

You try to imagine a life without Taako. An alternate universe where you grew up alone, where it was just Lup versus the world. Nobody to trust; nobody to take care of, to rely on. It’s a terrifying thought. You don’t know who you’d be without him. Who you’d become. You can’t picture it. You don’t want to.

Taako’s lived it.

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, swallowing hard.

Your eyes are stinging again, which is ridiculous. Taako’s the one who thinks he’s just confessed to a murder here. You should be comforting him, not having a breakdown on his behalf. It’s just – fuck. You don’t know what to do. How to make this better. You hate it. You feel powerless; you feel like you’re trapped in your umbrella all over again. You shudder and scrub at your face angrily.

 _Fuck it_ , you think. You lean over and pull Taako into a hug.

He stills in your arms, and for a second you worry that this was the wrong move. Too soon. But then his breath hitches and he slumps into you, hiccuping. If he ruins your shirt crying, you do him a solid and don’t say anything. You just wrap your arms around him tighter. He buries his face in your neck.

“I should’ve been there,” you say. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Not your fault,” he mumbles. “That's _all_ Lucretia.” You snort, but Taako shakes his head. His hair tickles your chin. "I should’ve looked harder. Brought you home." he says. “You were alone, too."

“Being alone sucks.”

“Yeah,” Taako agrees. “It really fucking does.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, curled together against the cabinets, clinging to each other like you did when you were children, or after a particularly rough cycle, like you did when one of you died early on in the year and it felt like an eternity since you’d seen the other last. You sit there until it starts to get light out. You think you doze off, at one point, but you don’t let go of Taako’s hand, and he holds tight to yours.

Things aren’t okay, but you think maybe they will be. You’re not alone anymore. The apocalypse is over. You’re free. It’s a good start.

Eventually, Taako lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed. He kind of looks like a raccoon. He’s sporting mascara from three days ago, and it looks like he still thinks he’s too good for the waterproof stuff, the dope. But his expression is clear. He raises a brow.

“Feel like baking?” he asks. “Think I’m ready to give it another go.”

“Hells yeah,” you say, “let’s do it.”

And together, you do.

**Author's Note:**

> NOT SURE ABOUT THIS ONE, FOLKS, BUT I'M POSTING IT!!! it's a hard balance between "get this! wasn't my fault!" and "you fed them their deaths," y'know??? anyways, while i know this is an idea people have done a ton already, it was fun to write!! so who cares. some notes:
> 
> \- lup has just recently gotten her body back. it's been maybe a week or two.  
> \- i know the timeline's a little wonky here. but look. it's fine. the apocalypse just happened a few months ago, okay. they had other things to worry about before having this conversation. it's fine. don't think about it too hard.  
> \- sazed hasn't turned himself in yet, but he will eventually. lup's going to be making some inquiries irt his location soon, which will probably scare him straight.  
> \- lup's dealing with her own issues re: solitary confinement in umbrella jail, but that's a whole 'nother deal that deserves its own fic. that's probably the next serious talk she and taako have. or maybe they've talked about it already? who knows.
> 
> catch me @ terezis on tumblr, i am always down to talk about taako, and also lup, and also cookies. i do not know how to bake. please do not call me out on it.


End file.
